Know
by Leara Bribage
Summary: Yet if he turned and gazed at her with his blue eyes, eyes which reminded her of the waves in the Seine - how it would dance in its silent song as light captured its movement - she would finally, finally get it. / A series of drabbles for Enjonine so that I may get back my love for writing.
1. Know

**[A/N]:** I _know_. I should write _Vegas_ already. I'm sorry. I'm still getting back into it. I, well, got busy with being a Senior and graduation practices (I'm gonna graduate this Friday! Whew, High School. Au revoir! Bonne chance!) that's why I kinda forgot to write and felt out of love with the story. So this is why this drabble (or drabbles in the near future) are born. To get back to my OTP, Enjonine.

Now, this drabble is based from a song titled "I Don't Know How to Love Him" which is sang by Mary Magdalene from the musical _Jesus Christ Superstar_ (and a bit of the song "Pilgrim's Theme", which is a totally cool song). I fell in love with the song because of Yvonne Elliman and the fact that I have to study it for an upcoming recital. And that this is tangentially close to Eponine and Enjolras - for me - because, well, lyrics!

Anyway, have fun with it. :)

* * *

**Know**

She does not know how to love him.

She does not know why or how. She does not understand 'love'.

She does not know trust. She does not know how to move his heart, or hearts, for that matter. She does not know what to do.

She has forgotten how.

Yet if he turned and gazed at her with his blue eyes, eyes which reminded her of the waves in the Seine - how it would dance in its silent song as light captured its movement - she would finally, finally get it.

She knows, knows the curl of his full lips when it would tug slightly as he looked at her softly.

She knows, even before words passed between them, that he knows, too.

That if she turned and gazed at him with her brown eyes, eyes which captured the stars and galaxies as it lit up like the sky above them - that it would capture the light - he would always, always get it.

He knows, knows the curl of her slightly parting lips as he grazed his lips upon it when she laughed.

He knows, even before the rain fell, that she need not know how to.

Or to understand or believe in loving him.

Because he knew.

She simply knew.

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**[A/N]: **I dunno what to do with this drabble. I feel weird. Say, help me get back my love for writing?


	2. No Matter, Surely

**[A/N]:** Hi, thank you for the reviews last time! That surely gave me hope. Today, well, later after noon, I would be graduating, so thank you for those! I will get back to you five days after. :) Now, this drabble here is rather plotless, I reckon. I dunno. I just wrote it to experiment. I don't really know what do with it-except maybe bang my head on a table for its sheer lunacy. And perhaps because my head have probably gone bonkers. I think.

It was inspired by Enjolras when he said, "This is not a moment to pronounce the word 'love'. **No matter**, I pronounce it, and I glorify it. Love, thine is the future."

Go figure. :)

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**No Matter, Surely**

"Mademoiselle, I am tired of this. I am sorry. I have done you harm. I have condemned myself the moment I have condemned you. Why does it matter that we must fight so routinely, prolonging merely the agitation and reaching no agreement? I loathe this, this dispute between us, when it results to no concord. I propose an armistice. Let us stop fighting just for a week. Would you agree, mademoiselle?" Enjolras asked.

Eponine eyed him carefully, pouting her lips and scrunching her brows together. "On my terms, m'sieur, if you do not mind," she said finally, crossing her arms, which have been idle at her sides.

Enjolras nodded, his golden curls bobbing. His blue eyes watched her, silently waiting for her consequences.

"One, do not call me with any honorifics. I have not been, gamine or grisette, treated honorably. So if France's children are all the same to you, I would be more agreeable if you called me 'Eponine'. Yes?" she spoke. She put her hands on her waist again as she waited for him to try and sound out her name.

"Yes, Eponine," he mustered. "But only if you call me Enjolras."

A smile broke out on Eponine's face.

Enjolras did not focus on the yellowness of her teeth, brought by poverty and the wine she gulped like his friend Grantaire. No, it was not that that he saw. Rather, it was her eyes, which were brown at first glance, but now - with the sun sprinkling its rays upon the dancing of the trees' leaves - turned out to be a rich ocher colour, as if it were gold. There was a sudden brightening in their surroundings, and Enjolras endeavoured not to focus on that, so he listened to Eponine's next part of the bargain.

"Two, you must try to smile more. Look, Enjolras, lest you disagree and start another banter between us, listen to me. Your friends have called you 'Marble'. While I believe you have a sufficient justification on your behalf, would you just do me a favor, and learn to do so? It would make you... more human and emphatic. Is that not what you would need to inspire others to a greater France? I'd like to see you smile, just for once, no matter how rare when it would occur," she added in a soft voice, looking down and feeling a little foolish at her request.

Well, it has been said and done. Naught much to do about it. She will just see how he will take it.

"France does not need me alone for it to be great. She has many children, and I am only one in a million. Quia nominor leo," Enjolras responded, wincing a little at the memories of his friends teasing him about that moniker. Oh, how he _loathed_ it. He was the furthest thing from a marble. Au contraire! Truly. Well, perhaps not. Perhaps, a little.

_Oh, right!,_ Eponine thought, feeling her lips curl at this statement. But she bit back a retort for the sake of this 'agreement'. She could still point out, however, some things.

"Certainly, Enjolras, she is a lioness. But even as she bestows glad tidings upon her children, surely, she would at least hope for a gratuitous smile?" Eponine remarked, still glancing down. She fisted the folds of her skirts anxiously.

Enjolras noticed this and looked away, but could not help a small fond curl finding its way upon his lips. "I understand. Yes, she would, perhaps," he replied after a moment. Then feeling his cheeks burn a little, he determinedly said, "But... if you wish it so, as a part of our agreement, then I shall endeavour to do so."

Eponine glanced up at him at that. She saw him, his face away from hers, but she was not saddened by it. Rather, she was gladdened because she saw a faint hint of a smile on his lips. And, oh, how the sun lightened and glorified his curls.

The wind blew a breeze, and he closed his eyes. It was a marvel - to see him at ease and so free - that she nearly forgot her third condition. She blinked. Oh, she must not be out of focus. She needed Enjolras's help with this one. She let out a small cough to grasp his attention once more. Enjolras gazed upon her, as promised by her pretentious cough, and she tried not to blush for her third manifesto for their 'armistice'.

"Last is... if you would so not grieve it, would you please teach me? How to read some more difficult words, like those you read in your Rosseau, Robespierre, Condorcet, and Plato? I know only enough to survive, but I have always been hungry for knowledge. So if you would not mind it terribly... I would be forever in your debt, Enjorlas," she said humbly, feeling her blushing cheeks betray her at the intensity of his gaze.

"Of course. I would be honored to do this favour. Perhaps, after reading, I could also help you with your writing and spelling... then after that, I could help you learn more, if you want to," Enjolras said, feeling gratified and alive to have a purpose once more.

Eponine nearly fainted at this words. He would do _all that_ for her? Just because of their armistice? Oh, wonderful, how this agreement problem turned out to be. She is extremely happy that she asked Enjolras this request.

"Oh, Enjolras, thank you! Thank you!" she said gladly. Then not knowing how else to portray her immense gratitude, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You are wonderful, m'amie. Thank you! When do you propose we start this?"

Enjolras, not really knowing how to react to her sudden acts, merely replied, "Monday, after this week."

Eponine squealed in delight and hugged him before leaving, waving a hand as she left.

_Some way this armistice turned out to be_, Enjolras thought to himself.

He tried not to remember how she felt pressed against him.

Surely, it is no matter?

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**[A/N]:** No matter, surely. :DDDDD


	3. Song

**[A/N]:** Because I need to rant, this was born. This drabble is based on reality. Just want to let it out before it gets too constrained. After this, I'm sleeping.

Hope you like it, though.

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**Song **

"You have a tendency to overdo it. And when you do that, you become dragging and boring. You sound old," her voice coach commented, playing the aria of the piece she was supposed to sing for the recital.

She just smiled, embarrassed, and sat dejectedly on the chair behind her, murmuring her apologies in a small and defeated voice. Her other classmates just looked down, trying not to look at her. She could feel their pity.

She felt disgusted with herself.

She tried not to let it get to her. Tried to fight the welling tears and cursing. Tried to sing. She just got depressed about it. It was weighing her down.

Because it got to her. Because the tears fell, and she swore. Because she couldn't sing properly.

Because it would echo, echo in her brain - it would keep on replaying - until it nearly crushed her soul.

_You have a tendency to overdo it. And when you do that, you become dragging and boring. You sound old. You have a tendency to overdo it. And when you do that, you become dragging and boring. You sound old. You have a tendency to overdo it. And when you do that, you become dragging and boring. You sound old. You have a tendency to overdo it. And when you do that, you become dragging and boring. You sound have a tendency to overdo it. And when you do that, you become dragging and bo... _

"I am not boring. I am not dragging. I am not yet old. I can do this. I can do this. I am not old. I am not dragging. I am not boring. I can do this. I can do this," she said to herself, trying to cheer herself up.

But it wouldn't work. The tears were starting to well up again, but she had to focus. She HAD to focus.

She has to sing.

How could she sing when her voice and diaphragm won't cooperate properly? Damn this technique! She was used to using her chest voice because it was louder and clearer. Why do women have to sing using stomach muscles? Women sound faint when they do that! Why do men have to sing with their chest voice? Men sound clearer and stronger when they do that!

_Why_ can't she just do that?

Oh, but, of course, she will be out of breath using her chest. But she has rather large lungs to breathe with! Oh, but, of course, using the stomach is proper and easier. Why, Mariah Carey uses her butt, stomach, and lungs! How about that?

Why can't she do things right? Why can't she follow instructions properly? Why can't she do it? Why does it always have to be like this? Why does everything she have to do always go second or become an epic fail?

"What is wrong with me?" she asked herself, gasping and blinking the tears away.

She paced to and fro, repeating her mantra. "I am not boring. I am not dragging. I am not yet old. I can do this. I can do this. I am not old. I am not dragging. I am not boring. I can do this. I can do this. I can sing. I can sing. I can sing. I can sing."

Behind her, Enjolras entered the threshold and saw Eponine, looking frantic and weary. Raising a golden brow, he frowned. So he put his backpack and coat down before carefully threading his way to her.

As he neared, he heard her say, "I am not boring. I am not dragging. I am not yet old. I can do this. I can do this. I am not old. I am not dragging. I am not boring. I can do this. I can do this. I can sing. I can sing."

He heard her repeat these statements once more before her voice broke. Enjolras decided that it was time. So he hugged her from behind and heard her gasp loudly.

"Enjolras," she said, turning to face him and putting her arms around his waist.

Enjolras smiled softly and ran a hand across her back. He watched as her eyes fluttered close for a bit, and she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. Then she said, "I'm sorry. Bad day at pratice. My voice coach told me I sounded boring, dragging, and old. So, yeah, here I am, trying to cheer myself up."

Looking up at him, she tried to smile, but Enjolras saw the pain in her eyes. Shaking his head, he caressed her cheeks and let his forehead rest on hers.

"I know you'll probably beat me up when I start saying positive things when you're so down and all. But you said you wanted to cheer yourself up. But I will be honest, so don't worry about sugarcoating things. So hear me out: you're not yet confident. You still get afraid of crowds watching you sing. You still get nervous. I'll say, that's fine. It's all right. But you have to face it, and I know you can. You have a sweet, darling, rich voice that everyone should pay attention to. I love your voice. I love hearing it. It will never bore or drag me. Or even sound old. You have a very dramatic voice, so you'll just have to learn how to control it. You can face the music," he said earnestly, holding her close and seeing her eyes fill with a few tears.

Eponine closed her eyes, before she said, "What if I mess up in the middle of singing?"

Enjolras breathed, closing his eyes, too, before answering, "Then you will continue, no matter what happens. Don't care. Just let it be. Don't think of them. Think of me. Make me proud. Focus on that, and sing. Just sing, as if you were only singing for me."

"Okay. Okay," she responded, holding his face.

Opening his eyes, he grasped her right hand and drew circles on it with his thumb. Moments later, he saw Eponine open hers and leaned in. Smiling, Eponine let her lips softly graze his as she said, "Thank you."

He smiled and fully let their lips touch as his fingers ran through her dark curls. Feeling her sigh, Enjolras moved back and then said, "You can do it."

And she did that day when she gazed at him as she sang.

She _can_ do it.

They simply _knew_.

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**[A/N]: **Relatable?


End file.
